Surrender (End)

Outnumbered and outgunned, Texas tried to see any way out of this that wouldn’t end in her being filled with more holes than a colander. Any play was too risky however, and the weasel decided that doing as she was told, and biding her time, was the only safe play for the moment. With a heavy feeling of ****, she dropped her gun, kicking it over to Jane when motioned to do so. In spite of her apparent surrender, she’d keep her wits about her, ready to turn the tables the moment an opportunity presented itself. None would, the pigs moving too fast to allow any opening, and once Texas was disarmed Jesse moved in. The stock of the hog’s shotgun slammed into Texas, knocking her to the ground and leaving her head spinning.

Even through her haze, Texas felt herself being scooped up and carried a short distance, before being dropped into some sort of small hole, though only her hips really falling through. She couldn’t see it, but she’d just been deposited into a small, upturned lockbox, one that was too small for her to fit into fully. At least, she wouldn’t fit as she was. Jesse however was far too eager to rectify the weasel’s shape in order to remedy this problem, and raising a huge, booted foot, she loomed over her long hated nemesis. A brief pause was taken to savour the moment, but that boot would not be long in coming, and in a swift motion, it dropped, slamming into Texas’ lap.

Texas screamed as Jesse stomped down on her, leaving a large boot print in the weasel’s crotch with an audible squelch. The foot rose, slamming down a second time, then a third. Jessie would continue to stomp, a little bit more of Texas being crushed to paste every time that foot slammed down, a little more of her pulled into the lock box. Texas’ screams echoed through the bank, the weasel now far less concerned with turning the tables, and just panicking about her predicament.

The surrounding bandits cheered Jesse on, their laughter joining the symphony of screaming sheriff and squelching stomps. In a matter of seconds, nothing could be seen of Texas, the weasel entirely pressed into the secure container, and her screams muffling every time Jesse brought her boot to bear. “I think she’s in.” Jane stated impatiently, wanting to have her own fun with the weasel.

“Don’t rush me. You’ll get your turn.” Jesse grunted, though she knew her sister had a point, she was hogging the sheriff. She’d deliver a few more quick stomps, before lifting her foot for one final, extra heavy slam. As her foot sunk into the gummed up remains of the once fearsome sheriff, Jesse would grind it from side to side, raising her other foot so her entire weight pressed down on the screaming weasel, before she slowly extracted her foot from the safe.

A web of tan ooze extended from the box, almost like Jesse had stepped into the world’s largest wad of gum. Placing the heel of her boot to the side of the opening, Jesse casually scraped the sheriff slime from her sole, before peering inside. A small crept over her face as Jesse saw a flattened face in the pool of paste-like-weasel, a pair of eyes blinking up from the goop. Satisfied, the hog stepped aside. “She’s all yours.” She informed her sister, before waddling over to lean on a nearby counter, turning to watch what her sister would do.

Pleased porcine practically pranced her advance, pride plastering her profile as she peered upon pasted prosecutor. Pants pulled, perspiration precipitating from perfectly plump posterior. The pig pivoted, proceeding to park precariously in position over the perimeter of the pit.

An unpleasant gurgling stirred in the air, Jane shuffling in place to find the most comfortable spot. Her position was not meant for comfort however, but rather, to place her ass right over Texas’ dumb, squashed face. She lifted a leg and pushed with all her might, grunting a tune of gleeful sadism and bowel based discomfort. A muffled tuba like sound sung out: wet, brassy, and deep. Fumes fired from the bandit’s buttocks, filling what little empty space remained in the lock box. The excess plumed from the sides of the opening, filling the bank with the ungodly stench that could only be brought about by the pig’s unhealthy diet of chilli.

Hot fumes engulfed Texas in a sensation not dissimilar to being pepper sprayed, save that this was the most foul-smelling peppers Texas had ever set her senses too. Putrid meat, digested chillies, and all manner of unidentifiable slop were just some of the scents Texas picked up on. Jane’s exposed cheeks sprayed sweat down in the grossest shower imaginable, dousing Texas with a fine mist of musky fluids.

Once the safe was brimming with vile methane, Jane heaved herself to her feet, kicking the lid shut, and locking it tight. Nothing was getting out of there, not Texas, not the gasses she was contained with. At least, not until Jesse or Jane decided to open it again, they had no intention to leave the weasel here afterall. Taking the safe, Jane lifted the metal box, securing it under one arm, and nodding to her sister. “Alright, let’s take our time to empty this place, get back home, and enjoy the spoils of this heist.” She patted the safe gently. “All of them.”